


How I want my cold devil

by Baryshnikov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Legilimency, Legilimency probably doesn't work like this, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Tom is a terrible person, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baryshnikov/pseuds/Baryshnikov
Summary: Abraxas lets Tom have uninhibited access to his mind, Tom makes him regret it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up: there is an element of non-con in this when Tom uses legilimency and doesn't stop when Abraxas explicitly asks him to, it is written a little like a sexual non-con scene, so if this might bother you, please don't read.

They had been doing it for years. Tom coming down here to the Chamber, dragging Abraxas with him. To Tom’s secret space. He liked it down there in the dark and the cold, Abraxas did not, but he got to be alone with Tom and he would put up with every discomfort in the world for that. Tom was special and had only become more so recently. He had that cold exterior that cared for nothing and for no one, but underneath he was burning hot, an intense mixture of passion and intellect that got his heart hammering. Tom had proved himself to be dangerous, a two-faced deceiver that wasn’t afraid to lie to get what he wanted, but Abraxas was the same, except he was so disgustingly wealthy, he just had to smile in that special way and people were tripping over themselves to assist him; after all, to be favourable to a Malfoy was a one-way ticket to God.   
~  
The light shining down was cold, they sat beneath its streams, the stone cool to Abraxas’ warm hands. They sat opposite each other as always, about five feet apart as always.   
Abraxas breathed deeply and fiddled with his hair as he waited for Tom, he always took too long, Abraxas never knew why, it wasn’t exactly hard to enter someone’s mind if you really wanted to, and Tom always seemed to want to.   
He’d first done it when they were young before Abraxas had even heard of the word legilimency. He’s always had bad headaches, spent half his time in the sickbay waiting for someone to work out what was wrong with him; no one ever knew.  
~  
Eventually, Abraxas looked up at Tom, he looked so pretty in this light. It brought out the hollows of his cheeks and the morbid darkness in his eyes. When Tom returned the gaze, Abraxas felt the usual sting deep inside his head. The continuous throb, the incessant ache, reminding Abraxas what he was letting himself do, what he was letting someone else do to him. Once it had been a kindness, but that was no longer a justification. Tom had mastered legilimency years ago, this was not a kindness, not a friendly gesture of goodwill. This was selfishness, Abraxas acting on his own sordid desires. He liked what little power it gave him, it sated that deep need inside him, the need to be used. It was thrilling to have Tom doing whatever he wanted, looking at whatever he wanted- examining and discovering more about him than he knew about himself. It was so electrifying not to have power, not to be in control for the first time in his life. To be at someone else’s mercy when he was so used to the absoluteness of his authority, an authority that would never be questioned or doubted or mistrusted. To lose all of that made his head spin and his body hungry for desire. Not to mention that he lost it to Tom of all people. Tom, a half-blooded bastard with nothing to his name but quick wit and a pretty face. Losing everything to someone so common felt so crude, so debasing and oh so good.   
The thudding in his head grew heavier and Tom looked so beautiful, so powerful, so threatening. Abraxas felt his thoughts wandering again to those hollow dreams, those secret fantasies that were so stained with longing and tainted with an innate hunger. He knew Tom saw all those filthy thoughts, saw them, felt them, was engulfed by them, and that made his pulse quicken and his lungs turn to lead. Tom saw everything and said nothing of Abraxas’ decadent dreams. Instead, he held his eye, his brow furrowed and such an intensity in his features, like a thousand ugly thoughts, whirled behind his pretty eyes. Abraxas’ pulse quickened. The whole encounter seemed so intimate, the heavy throbbing in his head and Tom feeling so close, like he was on top of him, pinning him to the floor and climbing inside him in a futile search for his soul. Abraxas reached to steady himself, his hands on the cold stone just behind him.   
It was overwhelming, suffocating, Tom felt so close. Far too close. He couldn’t see anything but the dark clouds swirling in his eyes. Hurricanes sweeping him in, choking him, bleeding him until he was weak and lost and so broken. It was intoxicating to be this close to power, real power. To have it inside him, so capable of destroying him. He loved dancing on the knife’s edge, so close to the fire in Tom’s heart. He loved feeling so vulnerable, so fragile and so out of control. His fate entirely tied to Tom’s whims, and he was glad it was Tom he was giving himself to. Tom would indulge his illusion, let him believe there was something in his gaze. Let him believe only he had access to the darkness of Tom’s mind. Tom would never break his toys, however much they wanted him to.   
Abraxas wouldn’t admit how much he wanted to keep Tom inside him like this forever. That was knowledge for Tom to dwell on, knowledge for Tom to exploit in any and every way he saw fit. But never admit to anyone else in the world, what happened between them was a secret, an obscene secret that kept them both enthralled.   
The familiar throb intensified as Tom pushed further into his mind. Abraxas tilted his head back, his breath shaky. It felt so good to be used so completely. He stared at Tom, his eyes half-lidded and face flushed.   
Tom’s expression didn’t change, not even with a flicker of interest. But Abraxas was sure Tom knew exactly what he was doing and what the consequences of it would be. Tom always knew.   
He moaned as Tom did something indescribably obscene to him, a dark force twisting itself around his very conscious, consuming him. He swallowed, his throat sticky and his body pulsating with a raw need, a single primal desire.   
Tom crept forward quietly like he was afraid any noise would disturb him. Abraxas watched as he edged closer until he was kneeling less than a foot away. Abraxas closed his eyes, silently begging for Tom to do all those nasty, sickening things with him, to him. Those things he couldn’t even say aloud, those things that existed as appalling fantasies for late lonely nights.   
He started, his eyes snapping open when Tom touched him. Cold hands at the base of his neck, a finger pressing the hollow, making already laboured breath heavier still. Abraxas let himself be pushed against the floor, his hands sliding to his sides, fingers clutching at nothing.   
Tom lingered just above him, thighs either side of Abraxas’ waist and his hands pressing Abraxas’ shoulders against the cold stone. Their faces just inches apart, for a moment Tom hesitated. Abraxas closed his eyes, he licked his chapped lips and submerged himself in Tom’s brutal energy.   
He groaned when Tom’s hand glided down his body and choked when the same hand slid between his thighs. He knew how he must look: immoral, immodest, impious as he lay there, his legs shamelessly spread for Tom, spread for a dark yearning that devoured him.   
He whined when Tom leaned over him, wet lips against his ears, whispering words he didn’t understand but sounded so delicious. He couldn’t hide how much he wanted Tom, and Tom would have to be a fool not to notice, not to be drawn to someone so desperate to be abused by love.   
He arched his back and hissed at whatever Tom was doing with his mind and his hands. That dark force overriding his psyche, making him feel so feeble, so needy, so weak; so tied to Tom in every possible way that he could no longer survive without him. He was drunk on want and needed Tom to take him in every filthy way he’d ever thought about.   
But the throb began to sting, and an excruciating pain spilled down his spine, “that hurts,” he said expecting Tom to stop, withdraw from the assault, return to that intense pleasure that had Abraxas on the edge of desire. But he didn’t. Instead, he pushed further, the stinging turned to scalding and Abraxas cried out in pain, “stop it, Tom. Please – get out,” he said looking wildly up at Tom’s casual eyes.   
Tom didn’t. He tried to push him off, but Tom held him so firmly that no amount of thrashing would set him free. “Stop it, Tom! Stop it, please – for fuck's sake, stop it.”  
The pain wracked his entire body, forcing it to convulse uncontrollably. “Please,” he said through desperate sobs, the pleasant darkness of subspace had been ripped open by a blinding light, the full force of Tom leaving gashes in his mind. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying frantically to block Tom out, but he couldn’t, Tom had a rule of him now and he could do nothing but sob.   
Tom burrowed deeper, like a fungus, into him, until Abraxas was howling and bashing his head against the floor. Tom released his grip slightly and Abraxas took the opportunity to push him away. He scrambled away from Tom towards the corner of the room. He held his ears and rocked and screamed and cried and hit his head against the wall.  
Tom pulled out.  
Abraxas felt his conscious had been torn apart and he couldn’t stop sobbing despite his raw throat, despite his stinging eyes and despite his sore lips that had dribbled blood across his chin. His voice cracked, and his sobs became distressing whimpers.  
Tom took a step forward. Abraxas pulled himself closer into the corner; hands still covering his ears, and his body still shaking hysterically.   
Eventually, he looked up, seeing Tom’s face, so calm, so serene as if nothing was wrong fractured the illusion and Abraxas broke down. He cried broken tears like a dying animal, waiting for the hunter to commit the final act and end his suffering. The gashes in his mind throbbing, a heavy knell pounding his head. He fell against the floor, his burning skin against the cool stone. His body felt wrong; violated, desecrated, abused in the most intimate way. His whole being had been exposed, subverted by the darkness, every inch branded with Tom. He had wanted it, wanted Tom to do all those wicked things, but he hadn’t wanted that, hadn’t wanted Tom to tear him apart, and now he felt truly filthy.   
Abraxas stayed against the floor. “Why, Tom?” he said, his chapped lips against the wet stone. Tom said nothing. “Why Tom?” he said louder; he looked up his face blotted with tears. Tom said nothing, he just looked back at him, a flicker of fear in his face, the slightest apprehension at what he had done. But there was also such power in that gaze, such confidence, authority and strength. Tom had achieved whatever he wanted, found the secret he had been searching for.   
“Please, Tom – why – why didn’t you stop?” said Abraxas choking on his words. Tom turned away, his footsteps echoing away as he disappeared into the dark.   
“Why?” Abraxas shouted into the darkness. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, until he was shivering, hands shaking and lips trembling. Until he couldn’t shout anymore, and he crumpled into a ball and sobbed, wishing he could go back to what they were before. Wishing his whole body wasn’t torn apart by what he couldn’t control. Wishing he hadn’t been wrong about Tom. Wishing he had seen that Tom could break his toys if he wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas is given access to Tom's mind and is enthralled by everything he finds

They didn’t speak, they didn’t look at each other. Tom tried to, Abraxas ignored him. Whenever Tom got too close he checked himself into the hospital wing and stayed there for as long as he could.   
He couldn’t cut Tom out completely though, it would have been impossible to be a functioning Slytherin without a little help from Tom.   
They all asked what happened, why he no longer sat with Tom, why he didn’t lie across his lap anymore, why they didn’t even talk unless absolutely necessary. Abraxas never answered. They wouldn’t understand.   
He didn’t go home that Christmas, he didn’t want to, not without Tom. His mother would ask such questions and his father would give him that disapproving look. So, he stayed and continued to avoid Tom.   
None of that meant he stopped thinking about him though. He had to admit, and he would only admit it late at night when the rooms were silent, and he was sure he was alone, that he liked losing all his power, liked having Tom in control. It was sick, what Tom had done was wrong, wrong in every meaning of the word, but it was what he wanted Tom to do, in the deepest darkest part of his mind, it was exactly what he had asked for. He just hadn’t realised how much it would hurt to be torn apart from the inside.   
~  
It was New Year’s Eve when Tom approached him, sat on the bed across from him and watched him carefully. “Come with me, Abraxas,”  
Abraxas had looked up from his book, “where?”  
“Where we always go.”  
“Go alone,” he said coldly, returning to the book. Tom didn’t leave, instead, he licked his lips and continued to watch him.   
“You can look,” he said, his tone so soft and as gentle as it would ever be. Abraxas couldn’t help the interest that flooded across his face, “really?”  
“Really,” said Tom swallowing any doubts he may have had.   
~  
He met him in the Chamber, as usual, he was sitting in the same spot, waiting. Beside him was a small sandglass. Abraxas sat down opposite, Tom didn’t look at him, instead, he held up the sandglass.   
“You have exactly one minute in my head,” said Tom turning over the sandglass and placing it to his side. Abraxas hadn’t expected it to be so sudden, but there were Tom’s eyes fixed to his, an almost undetectable apprehension scattered across his features despite his mask of self-assurance.   
When Abraxas entered, pushing against every layer of defence Tom had, Tom winced. Abraxas supposed it must hurt more if you weren’t used to it. He wondered if he was the first person to wander through Tom’s mind, the first person to see everything. It filled him with anticipation, a fizzing delight that he was the person Tom had chosen to see him, all of him. Even the rawest, coarsest parts Tom had done his best to mend, hide from the world what he truly was.   
Tom was so responsive, sensitive to every movement Abraxas made, but he gritted his teeth letting him explore uninhibited, eyes only occasionally glancing to the sandglass. Abraxas moved a little closer, it was fascinating to watch Tom, the master of control, losing his composure as Abraxas delved through the masses of confused emotions, memories, feelings, wants, needs, desires, dreams and nightmares that formed him.   
It was a complete disorder, moments of tragedy stored with feelings of joy, forced beside memories of things Abraxas didn’t understand. Tom’s world made little sense to anyone but himself, that didn’t mean Abraxas didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see the scraps of emotions, the snippets of memory that formed his friend, his Tom.   
He saw hot sweaty nights spent with shadows, smiles stained with money, dark green snakes crawling across corpses, silver tongues, gold clocks incessantly chiming, rabbits hanged from the trees and swinging in the wind. Everything was stained with blood and smoke, and a white spectre hung in the sky. Everything was connected with thin threads, like a spider’s web and Tom’s wraith-like figure stood at the centre, pulling all the strings.  
Abraxas found himself in the mess, confined to a corner, a lone figure standing in the dark: inside his eyes were maggots and out of his mouth grew flowers. His body was beautiful, shining with white light and dipped in gold, but his heart was rotten.   
Tom looked unsettled, not in a bad way, more like he was just realising the true enormity of what he was letting Abraxas do. He tipped his head back and swallowed, his throat moving obscenely. He whined, voice catching in his throat, making him sound so much more vulnerable, so much weaker, needier than Tom would like to be. The faintest rose shadow blooming between his freckles, he looked the picture of arousal, an unadulterated vestal experiencing the hunger for the first time. It was striking, gorgeous, dazzling.   
The further he went into Tom’s mind, the more unnerving it became. He saw wet flowers against a grey sky, an old house looming in the dark, windows burning with green fire and a thousand thoughts that spun too fast for Abraxas to read. They sucked him in, begging him to go deeper, see things no man had ever seen, experience everything, learn everything about his friend. It made him feel things, agonising pain no man could endure, as if his world was being ripped in half. He felt the shaking soul and burning fever that stalked Tom, and why there were shadows in his eyes.  
Abraxas refocused. Tom was breathing heavily, his face fully flushed and body trembling, but eyes still lifeless, cruel, inhuman. Abraxas couldn’t help but go closer still. He touched Tom’s cheek, Tom flinched. They stared at each other, close for the first time in months, for the first time since Tom had split him open and feasted on his consciousness.   
Tom’s thoughts sped up, everything moved, swirling into a hurricane that buzzed constantly. Abraxas caught hints of everything and details of nothing. The waves crashing against black rocks, dark twisting caves that led nowhere, dead people walking through the snow. Everything was beautiful, but nothing made sense, it was too disorganised, too scared of making sense of the world and realising it didn’t belong in the result.   
Abraxas came to himself when Tom leaned in closer, their foreheads touched and made Abraxas’ skin prickle.  
Behind Tom’s eyes were screams, and blood dripping onto white flowers, spirits, ghosts and gods. Crowns made of flowers and crowns made of gold, burning forests and a hundred dreams being burned alive. Abraxas felt himself falling into the darkness, he was submerged in the thick tar of Tom’s mind, surrounded by fear and assurance, visions and reality. A bright red light glowed beyond the horizon, staring into the past and the future, fog swirled around it, but it continued to shine. Tom cut him out.   
Abraxas blinked, adjusting to the sudden darkness of the room. The sandglass had long emptied and a quietness hung in the air. Tom was panting, his black eyes as dark as scorched earth, and his lips parted slightly. He looked so beautiful, so agitated, so unable to articulate what he was feeling. Abraxas kissed him, hot lips against each other, an ardent fury caged forever, finally freeing itself. Tom kissed him back, lips searching for a meaning, for a redemption only Abraxas could give him.   
“You’re fucked up, Tom,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper and his hand still holding Tom’s neck. There was silence as Tom stared at the floor.  
“What does that make you then?” he said finally. His eyes meeting Abraxas’, “you have to be just as fucked up, to want me as much as you do.”  
For just a moment Tom looked like a child, lost in the world, lost to a power he could no longer control, swept along by the current and searching for a rock to hold him still. When he blinked the look was gone, replaced by the usual Tom: predatory and cruel, destructive in the most elegant of ways.   
Tom kissed him again, hotter and wetter this time, pushing him back against the cold stone. Abraxas tensed, Tom’s hands on his shoulders brought back searing memories, of aching agony, of screaming sobs of unending brightness that blinded him in the dark.   
Tom stopped, “don’t you trust me yet?” he said mouth against Abraxas’ pulse. Abraxas shook his head, “no,” he said not moving. Tom paused, his tongue pressed heavily on Abraxas’ pulse, “you’re still here though, and anyway, you wanted me to do that. It was smothering you, that need to be suffocated, overwhelmed, restricted.” Tom’s hands moved off his shoulders, trailed down his arms and pressed against his wrists instead. “You wanted to feel what it was like to be powerless, to lose control of everything. Your mind was screaming for it, begging to be stripped of everything, to be nothing but a body, to be used so completely. I won’t apologise for doing exactly what you wanted.”   
“I didn’t want that, and you know it.”  
“What do you want then?” said Tom sitting up but never taking his eyes off him. Abraxas was silent, trying to find the words to describe five years of feelings, five years of secret longings. He wanted Tom to do everything, still wanted him in every single way, doing every single thing his parents despised. But there was that nagging in the back of his mind, the wounds, barely closed, reminding him of all the horrifying things Tom could do.   
“I want you to be gentle.”  
The request hung between them. Abraxas closed his eyes, waiting for Tom to decide.   
The stone was cold, and a dampness made his shirt cling to his skin. As the moments passed his heart began to pound harder against his chest. Tom hovered perfectly still above him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes and see, he didn’t want to know what Tom was thinking.   
He was jolted back to reality by Tom sitting carefully on his waist. Tom kissed his neck, his soft lips caressing the sensitive skin.   
“You only had to ask,” he said before kissing his lips. It was so soft and slow and sleepy like Tom had been waiting his whole life to kiss someone like this. They kissed like there was all the time in the world, and nothing would ever part them. Tom’s hands moved off his wrists, instead, they went to Abraxas’ hands, his fingers fumbled as they locked together with Abraxas’ own. Tom squeezed his hand in gentle reassurance and, after a moment, Abraxas squeezed back.   
Abraxas opened his mouth to breath in Tom, he let him do sinful things that made him moan and his body ache.   
“Let me in, Abraxas,” Tom murmured between long languid kisses. Abraxas shook his head but didn’t stop kissing him. Already he knew he was drowning, sinking, losing himself in Tom’s storm. He would hold out much longer, you couldn’t hold out against Tom forever. So, he would sink under his spell like all the others, but he would always be special, always be the one who got to see Tom at his most vulnerable. The state when his eyes were dark with fear and white silhouettes haunted every corner of his face.   
Tom left his mouth and moved to his neck, slow sloppy kisses leaving blushing roses in a perfect line to his collarbone. His hands left Abraxas’ and undid his shirt, taking care with each button, letting his cool nails scrape against Abraxas’ hot skin. He acted like he knew how expensive every button was like he knew exactly how much Abraxas was worth in coinage.   
Abraxas moaned shamelessly, arching his back as Tom’s hands slid across his chest and waist. Tom shifted, his lips staining Abraxas’ perfect skin, imperfections Abraxas knew he couldn’t hide from everyone, blemishes that everyone would know, but no one would say, who was responsible for.   
Tom’s nails scratched thin red lines that made Abraxas’ skin light up with a fire, made his breath ragged and his mind oh so willing to give in.   
“Let me in, Abraxas,” said Tom again, his chin against Abraxas’ abdomen. His eyes were dark and inviting and Abraxas just couldn’t be bothered to resist. “Just – be gentle,” he said dropping his head back against the stone.   
Instantly he felt the throb in his head again. Tom picking, choosing, examining every idea, every thought, every fantasy Abraxas had ever entertained. It felt so good to have Tom back in his head, he hadn’t realised how much he’d felt the absence until that void had been filled. The darkness, the full force of Tom’s mind wrapped around Abraxas’ psyche: caressing, rubbing, chafing him in the most appalling ways. Until he was groaning, body heaving, his own hand dragging through his damp hair.  
Tom slid between his thighs and Abraxas abandoned composure, abandoned self-control, abandoned every pureblood protocol he knew. He let himself be consumed by his own satisfaction and by the filth that was doing it to him. Tom and his cold façade, his stiff frigidity that everyone assumed meant he didn’t feel things like them. People assumed too much about Tom, they thought they’d seen everything about him before, and they had, but never all together. Never had so many perfect parts come together at the same time. They looked down on him, and that was just so thrilling, so outrageous, so scandalous to be fucked by the trash of society.   
Tom’s hand wrapped around his cock, making him gasp breathing in the musty air. The wet stone forgotten as Tom’s hands were all over him as of this was the last moment they had with each other. The stale air tasting so bitter in his dry mouth, and Tom’s presence so strong in his mind taking control of everything, just as he had always wanted but could never say aloud. He felt so deviant as he lay there, flushed pink and clammy skin covered with a veil of sweat. He was so vulnerable, so defenceless, so exposed to whatever Tom wanted to do. But Tom kept his promise, the gentle rocking of his hips enough to send shudders down Abraxas’ spine and incoherent moans to spill from his mouth.   
He came with breathless whines, the sticky air catching in his throat, eyes glassy and lips trembling with pleasure. Tom had laid down beside him, fingers intertwined. Tom had kissed him lazily and murmured he had such a beautiful mind. Abraxas had stayed silent, just watching his dark lifeless eyes and for the first time understanding what Tom was: a force of nature, and yet so unnatural; a product of society, and yet its reject. Tom was everything that everyone loathed and yet secretly desired. He was what Abraxas had always wanted: a reason to be outrageous, a means to play out every despicable desire, a meaning to his endless expensive life. Tom was everything he’d ever wanted and it felt so good to finally have him.   
~  
No one ever knew what happened that holiday, but when they came back Tom and Abraxas were together again an inseparable pair. Tom’s hands always on the back of Abraxas’ neck and Abraxas always leaning into his touch.   
Abraxas knew they wouldn’t understand what lay between them: the understanding of each other only they shared. It felt so good to be the only one to understand the devil that would devour them all, the only one to understand Tom.

**Author's Note:**

> I know my dialogue isn't great (I'm working on it) please don't crucify me for it


End file.
